


My Lord and My Lady

by fell_on_black_days



Series: Yvander Trevelyan and CO. [2]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: F/F, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-23
Updated: 2018-01-21
Packaged: 2018-12-06 02:27:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 18,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11591034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fell_on_black_days/pseuds/fell_on_black_days
Summary: Revan Surana has had quite the luck. She left Kinloch Hold before the blight, narrowly escaping Uldred's uprising and moved to Ostwick's Circle where she saved the life of a young Evelyn Trevelyan and brokered an Alliance with her older brother, Yvander. In honor of his sister, Yvander took on Revan's newborn son and raised him as his own. For nearly a decade they were all left untouched by the chaos brewing outside of Ostwick's borders. Now both Yvander and Revan have been sent to advocate for Lord Marcus Trevelyan at the Divine's conclave. How far does Revan's luck stretch and what does fate have in mind for them both.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This work is a revision/au of my earlier work in the series. You don't have to read that short fic to understand this one and it does contain spoilers. I am completely new to writing fanfic so please be patient with me.

Yvander leapt from Castle Trevelyan’s central stair, spinning about in frantic circles as he searched for his target. The sound of light steps echoed down one of the servant’s halls and he was off again, flying at a speed known only to rogues on the hunt. He whisked passed servants as they jerked out of his path and down well lit corridors, seeking his quarry. He sensed himself drawing closer and reached his deft fingers out grasping on to the shirt of his quarry.

 

The child let out a thrilled shriek and burst into bubbling laughter as he fell back towards his guardian. “Vander,” he giggled, “you said I could play.” The young lord released a throaty chuckle as he tossed his ward over his shoulder, “I said you could play  _ after _ you finished your lessons with Monsieur LeFeux. Unfortunately your memory seems far too selective for your own good, Thomas.” The boy huffed in protest, puffing up his small cheeks like a frustrated nug. “But all Monsieur LeFeux wants to talk about is boring history. The stories aren’t even interesting!” 

 

Yvander bit back a sigh as he attempted to lock his eyes on the corridor ahead. Though his ward was no more interested in his studies than Yvander had been as a child, Yvander’s commitment to the boy’s education was equal to that of his own parents, meaning that the two always came to a battle of wills when Thomas’ schooling was in question.  _ What would the boy’s mother say?  _ he thought to himself as he carried the boy back to the castle library.  _ She certainly did not pass on her love of learning. Must be his father’s influence, whomever that may be. _

 

Though thoughts like these often lead to the memory of the boy’s mother and his undying debt to the woman, Yvander was pulled from his reverie by the clacking of Monsieur LeFeux’s heels. The man was dressed in the current Orlesian fashion, complete with mask and powdered wig. “Lord Trevelyan,” the tutor was obviously annoyed with the delay in his pupil’s presence as his blue-toed shoe tapped about sporadically, “I see you have returned with young Thomas. Shall you take your leave?” 

 

“I’m afraid so Monsieur, it seems I am needed elsewhere,” Yvander added politely as he noticed his blatant dismissal. Though the Monsieur was hired by the Trevelyan family, Thomas’ social position as a bastard, even one rumored to be the son of an influential Free Marcher family, made retaining well reputed staff difficult, especially those from the Orlesian court and many favors had been called in on Yvander’s part to obtain such a fine tutor for the boy. Apart from his time chasing the boy that morning, Yvander had a few matters of state to attend to.

 

As he strode to his father’s court, Yvander caught snippets of a heated conversation between his father and some guest that had apparently outworn his welcome. “Lord Trevelyan, the order finds your reluctance to support our efforts alarming. Is your own daughter not one of our charges? Surely you understand that her safety is also dependant on the continued safety of the Ostwick Circle.”

 

“I understand my child’s position just as much as anyone else in Thedas, captain. If you have any dignity left or respect for your own office, I suggest you return to your commanding officer.”

 

“But my lord…”

 

“I will not repeat myself Captain. You are  _ dismissed _ .”

 

As his father hissed out that final word, Yvander stepped through the open doors of the foyer, passing a disgruntled Templar on his way. Yvander trained his gaze forward, ignoring the soldier’s presence. If his father had rejected this man’s offers then he wanted no part in the man’s business. As Yvander approached the dais he prepared himself for whatever news his father had mentioned the night before. If the circle was involved then Evelyn was as well and Yvander had nothing but love and concern for his younger sister.

 

“Father,” he said as he offered a swift bow, “you mentioned you had matters of state to discuss?”

 

Lord Marcus Trevelyan stood from his chair motioning for his son to follow as he began to speak, “I am afraid this business is something of a private nature my son. It seems the Starkhaven circle has fallen and ours here is in jeopardy as well. As such I had arranged for your sister to come home in company of Miss Surana. Unfortunately the Knight Commander has made a last minute change of plan.”

 

“I see.”

 

“He seems to believe that he can hold the circle through the rebellion,”

 

“The man seriously believes he can succeed where  two thirds of Thedas has failed? Does he not realize…”

 

“Though you are correct Yvander, your outrage is unnecessary. I have arranged for an alternative route of retrieval.”

 

Yvander stopped dead in his tracks. He had heard that the circle was in rapid decline but if his father was worried enough to risk excommunication by the Chantry then the situation had become absolutely dire. “When and how, father? It will be done.”

 

* * *

 

Yvander, Evelyn, and Revan raced across the dark landscape towards Castle Trevelyan. The ride from Ostwick’s circle had been a draining one and the pressure was on until they crossed the gates of the castle proper. As each raced to shelter they could hear the clang of templar armor and the battle cries of mages and hunters alike. No feeling could compare to the relief they felt as they slowed the horses to a trot, the gates closing securely behind them.

 

Yvander hastily dismounted and helped his sister down from her horse, assuring that her delicate form remained upright as Revan gracefully slid from her saddle. The elven woman surveyed the castle courtyard as she noted the small changes that had occurred over the last seven years. 

 

Little had been affected by time between her son’s birth and the rebellion. The walls stood strong with well kept masonry and the iron siege gate held firm against the night. The towers of Castle Trevelyan reached high into the night sky, three dispersed in a triangular formation with the tallest in the center. The outer towers were constructed for military and magical use while the one in the center was for residential purposes and accommodating serving staff. On the main floor of the keep was a series of dining halls (both formal and relaxed), a small chantry, grand foyer, and ballroom that doubled as the basis for Lord Marcus’ court. These areas were decorated with costly Serault glass and Trevelyan family drapery. Portraits of each family head hung in the entry, each countenance stern no matter the gender. Soft carpet runners in Trevelyan colors acted as guide for the more cultured guests and the hallways were left brightly lit night and day by evenly spaced sconces made of ram’s horn and iron fittings. The double doors to the grand hall were carved with the Trevelyan steed and family motto “Modest in Temper, Bold in Deed” confirming ownership to the castle should any questions persist after the entryway. 

 

Despite her imposing surroundings, Revan Surana felt at home as she stepped foot into the Bann’s court. The family had accepted her as an indispensable asset at least and a foster sibling at most, especially in the cases of Yvander and Evelyn, whose life she had saved years prior and company she had kept for the near decade spent in Ostwick’s circle. Both women had the gift - or curse, depending on personal opinion - of magic. Revan was a renowned spirit healer and alchemist despite her racial setbacks and Tevinter complexion. How her mother had managed to give Revan flaming red hair was anyone’s guess as neither she, nor the boy’s father, had passed on their lighter shades to Thomas’ dark locks. Evelyn, on the other hand, had an obvious resemblance to her brother with sandy blonde hair and hazel eyes. The entire Trevelyan family had pale, almost milky in some cases, skin and tall willowy frames that made them ideal sprinters and acrobats where Revan had a petite curved frame and eyes the color of summer leaves.

 

The Trevelyans spoke with polished Free-Marcher accents while Revan’s tongue curled with just a hint of a dalish accent underneath her Ferelden tones. While she had had simple origins in Lothering as the child of a farmer and an herbalist, Yvander and Evelyn had grown up learning dances and speaking Orlesian, a language that Revan had only learned in her teenage years at Kinloch Hold. Though their backgrounds could not be further from the same root, the three had grown close over the past years. Evelyn and Revan were near inseparable in the circle both as friends and as a healer and patient while Revan had grown close to Yvander through the stories he sent about Thomas’ growth and accomplishments. Through the Trevelyan siblings, Revan had held onto the only untainted memory she had left of home.

 

As the proper greetings between the Bann and his children were made, Revan stepped away in the direction of her quarters where she hoped to find her son. She had little more to do than open the door before a young voice cried out an excited “Mamae!” The child bowled into her legs, as Revan let out a surprised shout which quickly turned to a chiming laugh as she caught herself on the doorframe. “I’ve missed you, da’len,” she said. “My you’ve grown in the months since our last visit!” Her boy beamed with pride as he stretched as tall as his little back would allow. “I’m nearly as tall as my pony now!” Revan laughed as she ran her fingers through Thomas’ curly hair while he regaled her with his studies and social activities. He told her of his riding and archery practice and of a hunt he had accompanied Yvander on, bagging several elk in the end. He would have continued if he hadn’t succumbed to a large yawn, prompting his mother to tuck him in for the night.

 

Revan treasured these mundane moments as they were few and far between. As she kissed her son’s sleeping head. She would hold this new nightly routine close to her heart over the next year, before the Divine held her conclave.

 

* * *

 

 

Yvander brought his dagger down in a half moon arc, slicing several inches into the rogue templar’s skin. The mage-hunter let out a pained scream as the poisoned blade severed flesh from bone, leaving intense chemical burns as it went. Yvander took no time to pity his opponent, opting to drive his other blade deep into the templar’s thigh as he dropped his weight to effectively hamstring the man. Several feet away, Revan let off a blast of frost, momentarily immobilizing her own opponent as she used force magic to shatter his brittle form. The rogue and mage regrouped as they both searched the surroundings for any remaining adversaries. Finding none Revan took time to heal them both as Yvander searched the bodies.

 

The two friends had traveled south from Ostwick, across the Waking Sea to the northern shores of Ferelden where they were forced to sneak their way towards the Frostbacks. They had been on the road for nearly a week when this particular ambush occurred and were well prepared for similar events long ahead of them occurring. 

 

Leaving Castle Trevelyan had carried great emotional cost for them both. Yvander had become accustomed to spending a large amount of time with his younger sister and Revan had felt the pangs of leaving her son behind for the second time. Neither knew if they would return but the Trevelyan family needed representation at the conclave and who better to send than the heir  and their most trusted advisor? Goodbyes had been made, tears were shed, and letters of recognition were signed by Lord Trevelyan himself to aid with their journey. Aside from the occasional ambush or bandits, the trek had gone smoothly.

 

The two had become a force to be reckoned with. Yvander was agile with his blades and nearly silent as he moved while Revan’s primarily defensive and restorative magics made Yvander extremely difficult to knock down. The few offensive spells up her sleeve certainly didn’t hurt, as was witnessed by the splat that had been a Templar minutes before. 

 

Another perk of her company was the increasing stash of poisons and potions at their disposal. Revan was a renowned alchemist in Ostwick and was known in academic circles as the leading mind in non-magical toxins and medicine. Her lectures and theories were widely dispersed, reaching every circle except Kirkwall before the mage rebellion. She was also a gifted spirit healer who had further developed pre-existing methods combining both magic and medical practice. The result was a surge in lifesaving procedures that only slowed when Kirkwall’s chantry exploded.

 

Yvander’s noble status paired with Revan’s practical celebrity made Free Marcher ladies’ minds run wild with rumor. Add that to the timely birth and adoption of Revan’s son and all thoughts pointed to a sordid and forbidden affair between mage and lord. Neither of them had addressed the gossip in an attempt to either confirm or deny it. This course of inaction, scandalous as it may be, had provided Thomas with protection and social status somewhat above that of a common orphan and made bimonthly visits between mother and child possible over the course of his rearing. 

 

The political status that Revan held as assumed mistress had also provided her with a unique amount of power. The Trevelyan family had named her their official arcane advisor and dedicated physician. As such, she frequently attended court in Ostwick and other Free Marcher cities as an one of Lord Trevelyan’s attendants. Over the past few years she had made multiple appearances in Orlais, Ferelden, and Antiva on Trevelyan family business and had acquired her own group of social allies and enemies. Sending her alone to the conclave as a Trevelyan representative, however, would still overstep the bounds of propriety, so Lord Marcus had risked her and his son for this specific endeavor. 

 

She and Yvander had orders to work the different crowds at the conclave. While Revan would stay in Haven to speak with low ranking Chantry officials and Mage delegates, Yvander was to attend the talks himself as a neutral party with a seat not far from Divine Justinia herself. With Revan acting as Yvander’s right and left hands, he was left free to roam the Temple of Sacred Ashes while she kept him informed on the goings on in the village. That’s where she was when the breach opened and the sky was torn asunder.

 

* * *

 

There was no warning before the sky exploded. Just a concussive wave throwing people to the ground ahead of a thunderous boom. For Revan in particular the detonation had been even more disorienting. One moment she was tending to an old man’s cough, the next she was on the ground as her head was filled with searing pain. She felt her mana surge to the point of bursting and in that moment she could have sworn she was being made tranquil. When she finally regained enough of her senses to stand the world was in chaos. People were screaming as they ran in random directions with only two other figures focusing on the source of the confusion.

 

Before Revan could register the names of the two women she was sprinting along behind them towards the temple, terrified but determined to find Yvander and anyone else in need of healing. Before she was too far out of Haven however, she had to dodge a well aimed dagger as it flew past her head. The red-headed woman was in front of her before she could respond, holding the blade’s twin to her throat. “Who are you and why are you following us,” she asked in an Orlesian accent. If Revan had not been terrified she would have been enchanted by the woman’s demeanor. The Divine’s left hand stood before her with eyes of cold steel and lips set firmly in a thin line.

 

Realizing that her actions would seem aggressive in any other situation, Revan scrambled to reply, “I am Senior Enchanter Surana of the Ostwick circle, Arcane Advisor and personal healer to house Trevelyan of the Free Marches. I’m here for the same reason you are Sister, I have someone dear to me in that temple and I refuse to wait around while they could be bleeding out up there.”

 

Leliana blinked once as she sheathed her blade and motioned her companion forward, “Cassandra, I know of this woman. She may be of help in the valley and beyond.”

 

The Seeker broke her silence as she looked over Revan, “She is a mage, Leliana. She could be have a part in whatever this is.”

“She is also the close friend of one of the most honored dignitaries. If that is not enough, the Commander could vouch for her character at a later date.”

 

The mentioning of this commander had Revan momentarily confused before she refocused on Cassandra’s reply, “Cullen? I know not what he has to do with this but if what you say is true then her presence is welcome. Maker knows what we will face ahead.” 

 

The mentioning of the name gave the mage pause. The only Cullen she had known before this whole fiasco had not seen her in over a decade and had acquired an unsavory reputation among mages in the years prior. That aside, Yvander was somewhere on that mountain and needed her help. Revan grew impatient with her new companions as they chattered on and barely kept her frustration contained as she addressed them both, “I don’t give a damn if you trust me or not. My Lord and closest friend is up there and I’m going, even if it's only to find his corpse. We can talk about my status as a suspect after we figure out why the fade is in the sky.”

 

Leliana struggled not to laugh as Cassandra huffed in disapproval. The warrior sized up the mage again with narrowed eyes as she spoke, “As you are so eager you will not have trouble keeping up with whatever pace we set.” After that the Seeker broke into a brisk trot leaving Leliana and Revan to follow.

 

Revan froze her way through demon after demon as she tried to reach what was left of the temple. Though she had little hope of his survival, she had to see her closest friend’s body with her own eyes before she could accept that he was gone. The Right and Left hands had proven indispensable, both of them fighting desperately to reach the Most Holy or whatever they could find of her. The sight they were greeted with was a gruesome one.

 

Charred corpses laid about in various agonizing positions. Some were crushed under the debris left by the temple after the explosion and were twisted into sickening shapes that could barely be described as humanoid. The only items left to identify templar from mage were the metal plates of armour or broken staff blades left in the wreckage. There was no way to truly know the identity of any one victim. 

 

As the three forged ahead they all came to the realization that none of their loved ones had survived and each began to silently grieve for the departed. The women clumped together as they walked back to Haven, each intent on saving whatever lives were left from the hole in the sky.

 

* * *

 

All he knew was fear as he climbed the rocky slope ahead. He dared not look behind at the sound of chittering mouths and lightly tapping steps, only forward at the woman with her outstretched hand as she urged him on. He stumbled as he grasped on to her and realized that he was falling and she was being left behind. He reached for her one last time before there was a flash of green, then a rocky landing, then darkness.

 

* * *

 

 

The Seeker would not hear reason. Little could be said for her read-headed counterpart for that measure but at the very least Leliana had listened to Revan’s insistence that Yvander could never have caused the explosion at the conclave. At Cassandra’s order, both Revan and Yvander had been chained in the Chantry’s dungeon, albeit in separate cells. Revan had been locked several doors down from the room they had Yvander in and, while she was not above suspicion, she had been afforded the luxury of a former scholar’s study with a Templar standing guard outside. She remembered counting herself lucky, Yvander had at least four men waiting to lop his head off at a moment’s notice. 

 

She spent her time composing a letter to Lord Trevelyan, knowing that he would need to be briefed at some point about the exact state of affairs. It was during one of her final drafts that she heard a familiar voice echoing down the hall.

 

“You are certain that she is the mage we spoke of?” asked a man with a resounding Ferelden accent.

 

Cassandra answered him in her Nevarran lilt, “Leliana seems sure Commander, we would not have brought you here for her identification otherwise.”

 

At this moment Revan’s guard saluted, signaling the arrival of the Templar and Seeker. By the time they were in view, Revan had made up her mind to remain seated, preferring to seem more in control than was actually the case. She thanked the Maker that she did because the sight of Cullen’s face knocked the wind from her lungs. Much had changed about his appearance, but much stayed the same. His once curled hair was styled down in gentle waves across his scalp and a small scar rested on his lip where there used to be none. He had grown more sturdy, less like a boy freshly turned man and more like a veteran soldier, but nothing could make her forget the color of those eyes. They were a deep golden brown that reminded her of honey and ambered bronze. 

 

Memories of her youth flashed through her mind. Quiet whispers in the courtyard, stolen glances in the hall, everything up to the loss of moving away. Sailing as far as her words could take her. She wondered if he felt the same. To the outside world however she remained stoic as neither her eyes nor her lips showed any sign of shock or remembrance. The only words she said came in a calm, but firm tone, almost like one a mother would use to interrogate her child over stolen sweets. “Seeker Pentaghast, Knight Captain Rutherford, it is fortunate that someone here is familiar. Otherwise I fear you would both opt to keep me here until Andraste herself proclaimed my innocence and that of my Lord Trevelyan.”

 

* * *

 

Cullen froze when he saw her. Almost everything about her had stayed the same. Her fiery hair was still pulled back in a bun accenting the shape of her ears and the color of her eyes. Her Dalish roots held strong over her Tevene skin. Her heart-shaped face and rose-bud lips however, held little of the youthful joy he remembered. She had schooled herself into someone regal and unimpressed by whatever paltry company someone like him could offer. He could not see her as the woman he had fallen for in the circle before the halls had filled with abominations and death. He couldn’t even reconcile her with the vision Desire had thrown at him. All he saw now was an impassive politician that was wholly unimpressed with the cataclysm outside.

 

He barely heard her as she addressed them both. The only thing that ripped him back from memory was the cold authority in her tone and Cassandra’s curt reply.

 

“You and the prisoner are our only suspects. If you did not kill the Divine then who did?”

 

Revan arched one eyebrow as she ignored the Cullen entirely, opting instead to look directly at Cassandra before she spoke, “I may not be devout but I have far too much at stake to risk my life or the life of my lord in such a dangerous endeavour. Surely your spymaster has looked into my past dealings. She knows what I would have to risk to commit a crime this heinous. Now be about your business, Seeker. You must have demons to kill.”

 

Cassandra growled in frustration as she looked back to Cullen, “Is she or is she not who we believe her to be Commander?” 

 

The former Templar shook himself from his stupor as he refocused on his purpose. “She is, Seeker. Though I haven’t seen her in a decade this is Revan Surana.”

 

“And can you vouch for her character?” 

 

“As I’ve said Cassandra, I have not seen her in many years. You will have to rely on Leliana’s reports to discern her motivations for being at the Conclave.”

 

Whatever reply the Seeker had was cut off by Revan’s interruption, “You have seen my documents signed by Lord Marcus Trevelyan Lady Cassandra. Leliana herself verified their contents and my status under his employ. As I’ve said, neither I nor his only son and heir are involved in whatever plot this is. We were sent here on orders to broker peace between the factions, not commit mass murder. I demand to be let out of this cell immediately! There are wounded outside and I could be of use to their care.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Neither of them had listened. She was still in her cell, Yvander was still chained in his, and Revan was still in the dark. She came to the realization that nothing she said was going to save either of them and hung her head in shame.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yvander wakes up (and passes back out) while Revan punches Solas in the face. (Sorry not sorry)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will be posting every other week in an attempt to up content quality and make writing manageable with my current schedule. As always, comments and critiques are welcome.

Yvander could barely believe what the Seeker was saying. Hundreds of people dead with the Divine among their number. It didn’t seem possible. Why couldn’t he remember any of it? His noble training fortunately kicked in where his mind could not as he approached the cell where Revan was kept. “Wait, Seeker, why is this woman chained? She was not at the conclave and is a representative of House Trevelyan. Even if you do not believe my innocence you must believe hers,” he protested.

Cassandra whipped around almost faster than Yvander could blink to growl out a reply. “This woman is just as suspect as you and no amount of noble blood will save murderers from their fate.”

Yvander fought back a chuckle as Revan pressed the Nevaran, “I have just as much right as Lord Trevelyan to fight for my innocence. If you are taking him to the breach then you should take me as well, if only to judge us simultaneously.”

The Seeker huffed as she agreed and called for a templar to begrudgingly lead them up and out of the Chantry into the chaos that was Haven. What they were met with outside was just as unwelcoming. Hundreds of people, mages, templars, and laypeople alike, took time to stop and stare as they passed through, some even going so far as to bare self-righteous grins when Yvander’s hand flared causing him immeasurable pain. 

Neither he nor Revan were beyond scrutiny as they passed through Haven’s gates, making the silent urgency of the surrounding mountainside extremely welcoming to the pair. Though Yvander would not mention it, Revan could tell that his pain had not ceased since he woke. Each step brought a wince and he cradled his hand close to his side as if each accidental move brought a new wave of agony. She was so caught up in observing him that she almost missed the bridge they were on collapsing under her feet.

Out of the three of them Cassandra fell with the most grace, rolling as her feet hit the ice below. Revan managed to get out of the fall with only a few bruises but Yvander was not as lucky. He swore he could see stars as his feet reached the ground. It was not his lack of reaction but the reaction itself that caused pain to ripple up his arm as he braced himself with both hands. While he was stunned the two women jumped into action, Cassandra with her shield and Revan with a staff pilfered from the rubble.

The seeker slashed her way towards one shade as another formed next to Yvander. He came out of his stupor just in time to see its claws flying towards his face and would have needed medical attention if Revan had not thrown up a barrier just in time. Blue-green sparks spat back at the demon as it made impact, temporarily blinding the thing long enough for Yvander to find a pair of daggers and plunge them into the creature. He and Revan made swift work of the shade after that, finishing in time to see Cassandra lop the head off of hers before it faded away in shades of green.

The prisoners approached her with caution as they scanned the area for any other assailants. Yvander was the first to speak, “Thank the Maker, it’s over.” Cassandra narrowed her eyes as she saw their weapons and tightened her grip on her blade. As she dropped into a defensive stance she demanded that they disarm themselves. 

Revan, having had enough of the Seeker’s foul mood slammed the end of her staff down into the ice as she summoned spirit energy to her fingertips. “In case you were not aware Lady Pentaghast, I don’t  _ need _ a weapon to be dangerous and I’ve had ample opportunity to do you and yours harm a thousands times over. As a matter of fact…”

Yvander grabbed her wrist before she could continue, knowing full well that Revan could go on an hour long tirade when angered, “I apologize Lady Cassandra. I imagine we are all tired and strained due to the current situation. If you would feel more comfortable I will gladly hand over my blades.”

Revan snorted as the Seeker’s eyebrows shot up at her lord’s offer. While the both of them were skilled diplomats, Yvander was, by far, the more patient of them. Top that off with Revan’s prolonged exposure to the chaos and he was definitely the least emotionally exhausted. His efforts paid off when the Seeker agreed to let them keep their weapons for their own protection. They worked their way through the frozen riverbed and up a hillside when the sound of fighting reached their ears.

 

* * *

 

 

The five of them had made it to the forward camp despite the smattering of demons and rifts along the way. After putting Chancellor Roderick in his place Cassandra had asked Yvander which way they should go. He honestly prefered being as stealthy as possible but just as he was about to speak his mark flared, causing him to roar in pain. 

Revan rushed to his side and cradled his hand in hers. After casting a few spells to lessen the pain she looked into his eyes and said, “You may not make it through the mountain pass at this rate. Much as I would prefer any other option, we need to charge and we need to do it now.”

Yvander sighed in defeat, knowing that she was right and that her medical advice was more reliable than any mountain pass could dream of being. With that they charged in. Yvander found himself fighting next to a blonde man in full armor as several demons poured out of a small rift. The last one fallen, he reached forward allowing the mark to do its magic. It snapped shut with a weird popping noise just as the others had and, whether the ease of the task was increasing with practice or Revan’s magic had dulled his senses, there was less pain this time.

When he turned to face the soldier he was met with a strangely familiar sight. He couldn’t put his finger on what, but something about the man reminded him of Thomas. He shrugged off the sensation as Cassandra introduced the man as Commander Cullen Rutherford. The two exchanged battle appropriate pleasantries and walked towards the breach.

 

* * *

 

 

With the breach temporarily calmed and Yvander currently unconscious but stable, Revan sent her full report to Lord Marcus and a few additional letters to Evelyn and Thomas. She was caught up in writing to her son, debating just how much she should say to offset any fear or loneliness when she heard a knock at her door.

“Come in,” she called as she continued writing. She didn’t even look up to see the person approaching and took pause when she heard him speak.

“It is good to so you well, Enchanter,” Solas said, sounding more aloof than interested in Revan’s health.

_ Andraste preserve me  _ she thought. Something about the elf always put her on guard. He said he was there to help with the breach but he was an apostate who never underwent the Harrowing and had far too much interest in the Fade. His dreamwalking did nothing to put aside her fears of possession and his arrogance won him no favor with her.

“As it is to see you, Solas. Can I help you with something?” She put her quill down and shifted in her seat to face the man. 

As the other mage began to speak about the Fade and its denizens affected by the Breach, Revan measured his every word with the same scrutiny of an Orlesian noble. The man spoke in half truths and dodged some of her questions by derailing the conversation to philosophical points. Nothing about him suggested that he was trustworthy and everything in her itched to be rid of his company. 

It was one particular offshoot that Revan loathed the most. She had just finished asking him about his childhood on yet another sidetracked bit of conversation when he flipped her questions back on her. “I come from a small village that few people have heard of. And you Enchanter? Your accent isn’t from the Free Marches. If anything I would say you were Dalish?”

“I am Ferelden, serah. My mother was Dalish but I don’t recall much of her.” Revan wondered why someone with an apparent disdain for the clans would categorize her as a member of one. Any hints of a Dalish accent she had were only that, hints. Any clansmen or flat ear would recognize the difference.

“Ah, pardon my mistake. So you were in the Ferelden Circle for a time.”

“Most of my youth, yes. Though I transferred to Ostwick in my late teens.”

“And that is how you know the Commander?” 

_ Shit _ she thought, unsure of what information Solas was fishing for _.  _ “Only in his capacity as a Templar there, but yes. I did not stay for long after he was first stationed there.”

“Odd, he seemed to be quite confident in your character for such a short acquaintance.”

“Yes, well I had quite the reputation as a scholar even then.”

“I see.” She caught Solas measuring her up for whatever lie she had fed him. “And you had no interactions with the Commander outside of his station?”

She stood from her chair then in fear of his implied accusation. Her past was her own and no one, especially this hobo apostate, was going to go digging into her history without getting burned in return. “What exactly are you implying, serah?”

“Only that there are rumors and whispers in the Fade surrounding Kinloch Hold that would suggest otherwise.”

She couldn’t help it anymore. In one fluid motion she formed a gauntlet of ice around her fist and punched the other elf right in the nose. If she had not found his company so horrid she would have felt ashamed of such behavior. Fortunately, Solas had insulted her often enough to leave her without a single fuck to give.

With a sickening crack, the elven mage reared back, stumbling towards his staff. He raised it in retaliation but Revan was too quick as she summoned a shield to defend herself. As her ward snapped into place she fumed angrily barely controlling her rage enough to verbally accost the man. “Your intrusion into my personal affairs is as unwelcome as it is uncouth, serah. No proper gentleman would stick his nose into a lady’s private moments and no snoop would be so bold to attempt to hold whatever false information he found over another’s head. Now if all you would like is a broken nose, I suggest you leave and find yourself a healer before I truly lose my temper.”

Solas’ free hand shook with rage as it reached upward to staunch the bleeding. Seeing that Revan had the upper hand, he turned on his heel and left her dwelling to mope in his own. With him gone Revan was left with plenty of anger and no outlet to take her frustration out on. She desperately needed some form of release and thought up a plan as she put on her armor and winter cloak. 

She stormed down to the training grounds as inquisition members jumped out of her way. Few had seen this side of her outside of Castle Trevelyan. In the circle she had always kept a closed lid on it, denying herself the right to feel outrage at the injustices she had witnessed and endured. Now that Templars and the Chantry were not there to temper her she felt years of repressed aggression coming forward. 

Soldiers slowly halted their drills as she reached the sparring area and parted as she strode towards their commander. Cullen for his part looked up from a report as the trainees around him stilled, initial annoyance melting away to surprise. “Can I help you Enchanter?” he asked as his brow arched upwards.

Revan started eying up the more accomplished members of the crowd as she spoke, “I hope so, Commander. I find myself in need of a sparring partner.”

“If I remember correctly, offensive casting was never your forte Lady Revan.”

“Then perhaps you should refresh your memory Commander. One of your Templars should do, I promise not to break anything.”

Cullen felt increasingly uncomfortable with this new side of Revan. The mage he remembered was meek and afraid to harm anyone or anything.  _ More has changed about us than we both realize. _ he thought. He looked at his men and realized that Revan’s current mood could mean severe injury to anyone who did not take her seriously. With a sigh, he volunteered himself for her use. 

His men cleared a circle for the two of them as he prepared himself to fight the woman he once knew so well. He told himself over and over again that she was not the gentle soul he had been familiar with and resolved to keep his guard up.

It was fortunate that he had because Revan started the match with a stone fist big enough to knock over a druffalo. He had no choice but to duck and roll out the way, giving Revan time to pull up a barrier. Cullen’s resolve doubled as his instincts kicked in. He crowded her barrier as he bashed it with his shield. The mind blast she responded with nearly caught him off guard before he used his abilities to steel himself. As he shook off her spell’s effects, she whipped the end of her staff up towards his face. He parried with his longsword and surged forward again with his shield, striking her in the shoulder.

She staggered backward as he pressed his advantage. He thought he had her then but this new Revan was full of surprises. The next thing he knew his feet were sliding on a trail of ice. He desperately tried to balance himself as Revan began casting again. The green glow around her fingertips blasted out into dozens of tiny orbs that coalesced into stinging insects. Cullen was forced to draw deeply from his reserves and dispel the magic in the area. 

He couldn’t quite manage to drain her mana though and Revan noticed his exhaustion. She reached out to her spirit companions and, with the aid of Valor, sent forth a spirit bolt so hot it left a trail of ozone behind. The former-templar deflected it with his shield and lunged with his longsword just as the blade on the end of Revan’s staff stopped inches from his throat leaving the match at a draw.

Cheers erupted from the ranks around them as each and every recruit had just witnessed the match of their lives. Even Cullen’s second, Captain Ryland, pumped his fist in the air as he stood by with his newest report. Both mage and warrior stood panting still frozen in place as their heartbeets slowed. Before either of them could really speak, a runner fought their way through the crowd. The messenger skidded to a halt in front of the two before delivering his report. The Herald was awake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, so I REALLY do not like Solas. He's a racist douchebag and somewhat emotionally abusive. He's also an arrogant prick. Revan is by no means a loyalist and she does have a bit of a superiority complex going on with apostates but that is going to be fixed later on. I hope you all enjoyed the fight scene.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: there is a minor assault mention late on. Nothing graphic at all and it is part of the plot. Turns out everything involved in the incident was consensual. Feel free to skip those few lines in the end dialogue if you need to.

Yvander felt strange walking through Haven with every last person saluting him. The young serving woman had told him to meet Cassandra at the chantry without delay and he was loathe to be on the Seeker’s bad side… again. The majority of the crowd was unfamiliar and unmoving with the one exception being a red-headed elf sprinting towards him.

He was forced to brace himself as Revan leapt forward, tackling him into a giant embrace. “Don’t ever scare me like that again you arse!” she shouted into his ear. “I had no idea if you were going to wake up and that was directly after I thought you were dead. My son gives me enough trouble without me taking care of you too.” 

Yvander let out a strangled laugh as he set her down and resumed his walk to the chantry. His long-time friend had a bad habit of mothering those close to her, even doing so to Lord Trevelyan himself on occasion. The entire family and staff found it simultaneously endearing and terrifying. It was hard not to when you had a younger, more spry version of your own mother following you without reservations.

“I’m alright Rev, just a bit tired. I promise!”

“You damn well better be Yvander Thomas Trevelyan, or I swear on Andraste’s pyre I’ll kick your arse!”

Their familiar banter and loving threats continued as they walked through the double doors and only faded when they started to overhear Chancellor Roderick shouting back and forth with Lady Cassandra. 

“Have you gone completely mad? They should be taken to Val Royeaux immediately to be tried by whomever becomes Divine.”   


“I do not believe either of them are guilty.”

“The prisoners failed, Seeker. The Breach is still in the sky. For all you know, they intended it this way.”

“My duty is to serve the principles on which the Chantry was founded, Chancellor. As is yours.”

Revan and Yvander shared a quick alarmed look before opening the door. It came as no surprise when Roderick ordered them to be taken away but Cassandra’s response was quite a shock. It was even more surprising when she slammed a twenty pound book down on the table and declared them the second inquisition.

* * *

 

Cullen stood back as Revan rushed forward to meet the Herald. It amazed him that she had switched from damn near homicidal to euphoric in seconds. As he watched her leap into the other man’s arms he couldn’t help but feel somewhat jealous as he thought of the days when she had jumped into his.  _ How times change _ he thought sadly as he watched them walk away.

Instead of following them to the chantry, he walked in a slightly different direction to meet with Josephine. The young ambassador was sitting at her desk reading letters sent from Thedas’ nobility and merchants when he strode in. Ever the vision of propriety, she laid down her quill to meet his gaze. “Good afternoon Commander. What brings you here when the Herald is awake?”

Cullen froze as he tried to order his thoughts. He had been so caught up in his personal history that he had completely forgotten what he intended to ask Josephine. He found an appropriate topic while he was grasping at straws. “I apologize for the interruption Josephine. I was hoping you could tell me about the Herald’s character. I am not familiar with much of the nobility.”

“Of course, Commander. Is there anything you would like to know specifically? Or are you hoping to know about Lord Trevelyan’s reputation rather than his family history?”

“The latter would be most appreciated,” he answered, hoping to avoid a lecture. 

“According to our reports, Lord Yvander Trevelyan is the heir to Bann Marcus Trevelyan of Ostwick. He is the eldest of two children, the younger of which is Lady Evelyn Trevelyan formerly of the Ostwick Circle. His mother passed shortly after Lady Evelyn’s birth in 9:21. He has a reputation for fairness and is known as a great player in the Game.”

“I… see. And what is your opinion of him?”

Josephine paused as she thought carefully over her reply. “As I have not met him yet it is hard to say. But I do know that many of his political successes came with the aid of Enchanter Surana, whom you are already acquainted with. There are also… rumors concerning the two of them. Though we cannot verify or refute them at this time.”

“What do the rumors say exactly?”

Josephine eyed Cullen up and down then, aware of her colleagues aversion to half truths and innuendo. “They suggest that Lord Trevelyan and Lady Surana are romantically… involved. And they are not without grounds. Shortly after the lady’s transfer to Ostwick she gave birth to her son, Thomas, who was… taken in by Lord Yvander before he was dedicated to the Chantry. While he is not the next in line after Lord Trevelyan, he is of a high position for someone born under the same circumstances.”

* * *

 

Revan swore she felt a chill ripple down her spine. She shrugged it off as Yvander gently squeezed her forearm. The two of them had been forced to adjust rapidly to current circumstances and both of them were emotionally spent. They walked back to Yvander’s cabin silently as they mulled over the situation they had landed in. 

Over the next few days they were introduced to the other ranking members of the Inquisition. Everyone from the apothecary to the blacksmith to the couriers carried an odd amount of reverence for them both and, though Yvander was used to being under close scrutiny, he found the adoration overwhelming. Revan did her best to keep him grounded with memories from home and the two were near inseparable for almost a week before Leliana and Cassandra called them to meet with the other advisors. 

Yvander took yet another deep breath as Revan opened the door to the war room. He thought he was prepared for whatever the advisors could throw at him. Then he saw her. Her raven black hair was pulled back in a soft bun with two loosely curled locks framing her cheeks. Her hazel, almond eyes carried a gentle warmth reflected in the smile gracing her lips. Her honey-brown skin and eastern clothing painted her as a woman of Antivan descent and she carried herself with the kind of humility that only fit a woman of noble bearing. 

If Revan hadn’t jammed her elbow into his ribs he would have stared at her the entire meeting. His snap back to reality came in time for him to hear the woman giggle softly as Leliana gave one of her rare, tiny smiles. It was then that he noticed Cassandra saying his name for the third, or maybe fifth, time. “I’m sorry Seeker. I don’t know what came over me,” he stuttered as a blush rose to his normally pale cheeks.

Revan, who had noticed his inattention early on rolled her eyes with a heavy sigh and introduced herself to Lady Montilyet as formally as possible, “It is an honor to meet you Lady Josephine. Please forgive my Lord’s behavior. He rarely meets women of such elegant stature.”

Yvander sputtered as he darted a quick glance at Revan who shot back a wicked grin. She’d played his wingman on multiple occasions but this particular incident was completely unexpected. He struggled to find something, anything, to say but only managed to blush even more deeply before clearing his throat and addressing the entire room. “It is truly a pleasure to meet all of you. Especially without the latest in iron jewelry from Val Royeaux. I believe Commander Cullen and I met briefly on the path to the temple. I have heard the name Montilyet at several social events in the Free Marches but cannot say I have had the express pleasure of your presence, my Lady.”

Revan cracked another smile as if to say, “Nice save.” The rest of their meeting went by without anymore social blunders on Yvander’s part. Though he did notice a certain tension between his closest friend and the Commander throughout.

* * *

 

Revan and Yvander were in the Tavern later that night enjoying drinks and a quick meal when Varric sauntered over with a deck of cards and challenged them to a game of Wicked Grace. They were several rounds in and Yvander was quite a bit down when the conversation finally became more relaxed. Varric’s personal stories had dramatic flare developed as only an author could and Revan had enough embarrassing stories about Yvander to keep the night moving. If it hadn’t come to a screeching halt that is.

Varric breezed into his next question with the same ease as was his custom. “So I saw you fighting the Commander the other day Enchanter. Made me think up a couple of nicknames to try out for you.” Yvander choked and shot a glance at his friend as a blush worked its way up her cheeks.

“You did what?” he asked, his voice shooting up an octave.

Varric came to her rescue as she stumbled for her reply. “Just some sparring Trevelyan. Put on a pretty good show.”

Revan found her tongue as Yvander continued to look at her with concern. “I had had a trying few days. You were still unconscious and I wanted to work out some tension.”

“What kind of shite puts you off enough to go on the offense?”

Varric jumped in before Revan could dismiss the subject. “Come to think of it, Chuckles stormed out of her cabin pretty steamed just before that too.”

Revan’s smile, having long since deflated, devolved further into a grimace. “Solas and I had a disagreement of sorts and I may have said a few things he didn’t like.”

“I’d say! He came out of their with a broken nose and enough anger to put a rage demon to shame.”

Yvander pushed his seet out from the table and leveled a hard glare at Revan. “We need to talk. Now. Finish your meal and meet me out by the dock in twenty minutes.”

As he stormed off, Yvander felt concern welling up inside for his friend. She’d been noticeably tense around him but this type of behavior was wholly unexpected. Revan was by no means meak, but she was not prone to physical violence and vocal outbursts. He had shrugged off her rant with the Seeker as stress or fatigue but he could not overlook breaking another mage’s nose or storming off immediately after to spar with someone she was obviously uncomfortable around. She was starting to come unhinged and he had to know why.

Neither of them spoke when she first arrived. The silence was tense as they both looked pointedly anywhere but at each other. Yvander finally let out a sigh and looked her in the eye. “I’m worried about you, Rev.”

“I know,” she said quietly.

“This isn’t you. Snapping at the Seeker, attacking Solas, sparring with templars. You’re usually more stable.”

“I know.”

“Then why haven’t you said anything?” he cried, tired of her submissive answers.

“I’ve had to think things over. There hasn’t been time…”   


“Well there is now, Rev. What in Andraste’s knickers is going on?” If he hadn’t been aware of her off kilter state beforehand what happened next would have taken him by surprise. As he looked into her big green eyes Revan started to cry. He was there in a moment, holding her shoulders as gently as he could while staying firm in demeanor. “You know I’m here for you. Please. Tell me what’s wrong.”

Revan wiped her tired eyes and took a deep breath before she spoke, not trusting her voice to keep from wavering. “It’s… it’s hard to explain.”

“I’ve got all night.”

“I never thought I’d come back here, Vander. Most of my memories of this place have gone sour. The circle was all I knew since I was four years old. Four years old, Vander! And only some of the time I spent there was pleasant.”

“You and Evie mentioned the strain of it.”

“Yes, well, Evie had a much easier go of it.”

“Because you’re an elf and she’s a noble?” he asked. He had always known that Revan’s race caused much more strife than she ever let on and he knew that his family and birthright gave each of its members far more privilege and power than most people of common descent.

“Partially,” she said as she wrung her hands. “There are other circumstances that I hope she never has to endure. You remember finding out I was pregnant, yes?”

“Yes. You said it was someone in Kinloch. That it was the reason you left.”

“It was. But I didn’t leave because of him, exactly.”

Things started to click together as he spoke. “Rev, were you… did he attack you?”

“Heavens no!” she shouted, “I was in a relationship on my own volition. Both of us were.”

“Then what --”

“I was in a relationship that was not… sanctioned by the Chantry.”

“You mean with a Templar?”

“Yes. He was… we were both children. We should have known better but we never thought we would be found out.”

“Until you were.”

“In a manner of speaking. A Senior Enchanter knew I was involved with someone but not who. When Wynne found out he was a Templar she gave me a choice. Break it off or be reported to the First Enchanter.”

“And you broke it off.”

“I didn’t know I was pregnant with Thomas until I made it to Ostwick. No one else knew until you found out.”

He sighed as he brought his hand up to rub the bridge of his nose. “So that explains some of the tension. But what about everything else?”

“Solace had found out about my affair. He tried to pry more information out of me.”

“Alright, what about Cassandra. I know she locked you up but It’s not like she did so without cause.”

“I wasn’t really angry at the Seeker.”

“Then who?” he asked as he rounded on her. Then it dawned on him. “Cullen. He’s… is he Thomas’ father?” Her nod was all he needed to confirm his suspicions. “Does he know?”

“No, and I don’t intend on telling him.”

“I wouldn’t ask you to but you see how this makes things difficult?”

“I know, I just don’t trust him. Not after hearing about… about Kirkwall.”

Yvander took a deep breath. He had always respected Revan’s privacy and he understood her hesitation. But one thing stood out to him that he knew she would worry about. “Will you ever tell Thomas?”

She paused as she bit her lip to think it over.  “I had planned to when he was older, but now…”

“Now we could die at any time.”

“Yes.”

“We need to set up some type of insurance then. I can think of one person in this camp that would be able to carry that sort of secret. Knowing her, she already knows.”

Revan looked at him in confusion before clarity came. “Leliana.”

“It seems we have some explaining to do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I mcfrickin love Josephine okay? My gay little heart can't take her romance option, it's too sweet. On another note, this is a world state where reports of Kirkwall's annulment came out in graphic detail as propaganda for the mage rebellion. Hawke sided with the mages but Anders is definitely dead. (I always liked Fenris more anyway and Anders is literally a terrorist.)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've given up on an update schedule. I'm just going to post whenever a new chapter is finished.

Leliana had been surprisingly helpful with their current situation, even going so far as to station an agent with the Trevelyans permanently. Fears set aside, Revan and Yvander departed with the rest of their companions to the Hinterlands to meet with Mother Giselle. The trip only took a few days on horseback and their approach to the Crossroads was blessed with sunny skies.

After taking care of the mages and Templars attacking the site, each of them got down to business. Revan and Solas put aside their differences to heal the wounded, Varric met with some of the local merchants and farmers to inquire about their trade, and Yvander and Cassandra sought information about the horse master and other needs around the area. They met again that night to discuss their findings and plan ahead for their next few days.

Though Mother Giselle encouraged them to meet with the remaining Chantry in Val Royeaux, Josephine was still working on setting up a time. In the meantime they cleared out the rebel mages and Templars, improving safety for the refugees given the circumstances. They were on their way to Dennet’s farm when Yvander caught Cassandra and Revan giggling about some romance novel. 

“The Guard Captain deserves so much more than her lover could give though!” Revan exclaimed as the women gushed about their favorite character. She was about to continue when Cassandra caught sight of Yvander and cut her off.

“Herald! We were just talking about -”

“ _ Swords and Shields _ ? Sweet Andraste, tell me Revan hasn’t recruited you too!”

Cassandra blinked in confusion while Revan giggled a bit more. “You know the book?”

“Revan and Evie dragged me into reading the entire series. It really isn’t my cup of tea.”

“I… see.” Cassandra replied as Revan’s giggle turned into a full on cackle. By then Varric and Solas were returning to camp with fuel for their fire and both were at a loss for the current situation.

Not one to disappoint, Varric horned in on the action with several sly bits of humor and witnessed the near pummeling of Yvander when the noble almost told him about the scene he’d missed. 

The five moved on the next morning to secure Horse Master Dennet’s help for the inquisition, clear several rifts in the area, and prepare for a trip back to Haven with the new mounts in tow.

* * *

 

The trip back went smoothly. Their arrival, however? Not so much. Yvander and Revan were walking towards the Chantry to give their reports when they heard the shouting. Templars and mages squared off with Cullen interceding. Revan didn’t think it could end peacefully until the Commander shocked her completely.

“That is not my title!” he shouted at the knight before turning to repeat himself to the enchanter beside him. “That is not my title. We are all the Inquisition and this infighting helps no one!” She watched as he pulled the opposing sides together and as Yvander joined him to chase of Chancellor Roderick. This was a new side to him that she was completely unfamiliar with. The boy she had known in Kinloch was shy and obedient when it came to authority. The Lieutenant she heard of in the Free Marches was strict and somewhat paranoid. The Knight Captain he had been after Meridith’s demise was helpful with the rebuilding process but had little to do with the surviving mages as there had only been a handful. She still could not bring herself to trust this familiar stranger, but she could respect and observe him.

After finally getting rid of Roderick, Cullen was ready to address matters of actual importance. He walked back to his tent that doubled as his office and began reading through reports. He seemed to get little done as the day went on. Between training the new recruits and re-upping supply requisitions he was only halfway done when the sun had set. He was about to turn in for the night when he heard a knock on the tent post.

“Come in,” he called out, exasperated with the never ending flow of work. Instead of a courier or recruit, however, Leliana herself glided in.

“Commander, I think we should talk about some… delicate relations,” she said, her cold eyes impassive.

Cullen was immediately alert. The spymaster would not come to him at such an hour unless their discussion was to be about private matters. “Of course. Perhaps we should patrol the area as we talk.”

They set out on the perimeter of Haven, making sure to check the trebuchets as they went. They were halfway to the furthest from the village when Leliana finally broached the subject she had come for.

“I’m afraid we must speak of Kinloch Hold.”

“You mean about Revan?” he said, glancing her way.

“Yes. While I was there with Solona Amell you mentioned your… closeness to our Enchanter.”

Cullen winced. If he had had any hope of sleeping soundly that night it had just been shot to hell. Still, he knew Leliana would not bring it up without good reason. “I remember Leliana. Has something come up.”

“I am not at full liberty to say. What I wanted to know most is your state of mind. You quit the lyrium almost a month ago and now you’ve had this shock. How are you holding up?” He realized that Leliana was genuinely concerned for his welfare. While they had always been colleagues, the sister had kept distance between the two of them in order to preserve her judgment. It seemed now that she was approaching him, not with professional courtesy, but with friendly concern. It touched him to know she cared but he felt an old shame rising up as well.

“My behavior then and in Kirkwall was inexcusable. We both know that. The lyrium withdrawals are troubling but… I will hold on.”

“That is not a full answer, Commander.”

Cullen huffed before he finished his reply. “When Revan left it was without warning. Now I see her and we’ve both changed to the point of no return. I will treasure the moments we had but it is obvious to me that she has moved on.”

“To what exactly?” she asked as she arched one eyebrow slightly.

“Lord Trevelyan, obviously.”

Leliana snorted. Cullen eyed her from where he stood, confused as she tried to swallow a chuckle. “Lady Revan and Lord Trevelyan are no more than close friends, Commander.”

His confusion grew as the next question fell from his lips. “But their son - “

“ _ Her _ son, Cullen. Lord Trevelyan is the boy’s father only in practice. He took the child as his ward to repay a favor.”

Cullen felt the blood drain from his face as realization sunk in. “What are you saying Leliana?”

A small, sad smile formed on her lips as she said, “I think you already know.”

* * *

 

It had been nearly a week since Cullen’s revelation. The thought that he had a son ran through his mind on a loop. He did his best to keep busy with his recruits, an easy feat with the mountain of work on his desk during the day. But at night he found his mind wandering. When sour memories woke him from his slumber he’d stare at the ceiling of his tent thinking about Revan and her child.  _ Thomas, _ he thought  _ it’s a good name.  _ He tried to imagine what the boy would look like but kept drawing blanks.  _ Thank the Maker Revan left for the capital _ . He knew that he would not be able to contain himself if she had been there. He’d considered confronting her but, after serious thought, he realized her reservations. 

If Thomas really was his son then revealing his existence while the circle was intact would have been disastrous for both Cullen and Revan. Revan could have been made tranquil or sent to prison while Cullen would have lost his position in the order and kicked out on the street for fraternization with a charge. The fact that Thomas had been sent to live with the Trevelyans and not a Chantry was a miracle. If his parentage had been found out there’s no way that he would have been allowed to remain. Her reluctance to tell him after her arrival was probably a result of his cold shoulder on first seeing her and his reputation from Kirkwall. 

He thought over his options during the next few days. He had a desire to be in the boy’s life but was now the time? The Templar-Mage War  was still looming over the horizon and the Breach threatened the safety of all Thedas. Would Revan even allow him near the boy? She was within her rights to deny him visitation and their current predicament presented extreme dangers for anyone around the Inquisition, let alone a child. He made up his mind to approach Revan after her return from Val Royeaux to at least tell her he knew. He hoped she would be receptive.

* * *

 

Nothing anyone could do or say would lighten Revan’s mood as the party walked back into Haven. The trip to the capital had accomplished what had been intended but the company it presented was lackluster if not pompous. She had never liked Madam Vivienne on her visits to Orlais. The First Enchanter was a loyalist through and through but only for her own political advantage. The two mages had needled each other for the entire trip back with enough concealed venom to set Revan’s hair on fire. Even Solas had kept his distance instead of jumping in to talk about magical theory or mage rights after witnessing the tension first hand.

Now that she was back she just wanted to get some peace and quiet in her cabin and maybe take a long, hot bath. That was apparently out of the question.

Cullen walked over as he noticed their approach and stopped directly in front of her. “I’m glad to see you back Enchanter.”  _ He is? _ she thought, completely thrown off by the first sincere greeting he’d given her since he saw her in the dungeon. “I was hoping we could talk. After you’ve settled back in, that is,” he said as he rubbed the back of his neck.

His old nervous habit stopped her from snapping at him. Something about him was more open than it had been before and it almost seemed… hopeful? She cleared her throat before her reply, “All right, Commander. Perhaps after your duties are finished this evening?”

“I… yes. That’s fine.”

He had barely believed her when she agreed to meet with him. Now that he was outside her door he couldn’t believe that he was about to jump straight into this situation. He didn’t know what to expect from her. Would she be defensive? Hostile? Only the Maker knew where her mind would go. He took a deep breath before knocking to announce his arrival.

She was dressed simply when she opened the door. Sometime between their briefing and now she had shed her armor for a simple tunic and trousers. Her hair was still damp from freshening up and was let down to curl around her shoulders and down her back. She didn’t smile when she invited him in, nor when she poured the both of them tea. His attempts at small talk fell on unamused ears and he was struggling to find something else to say when she forced the issue. “Commander, we both know this is not a social visit. What did you really want to talk about when you approached me this afternoon?”

Cullen took a moment to collect himself before speaking, knowing that one wrong word could bring his efforts to a premature end. “Revan I’ve… heard you had a son shortly after you transferred to Ostwick.” 

She tensed ever so slightly, her hand tightening around her teacup. “And?” she asked, a note of caution entering her voice. 

He took a deep breath before jumping off the edge. “Is he…”

“Yours? Yes. I should have known Leliana would tell you”

“She was not so blunt but yes.”

“What does it matter to you?” she asked as her voice sharpened to an edge.

“I understand if you do not agree with what I’m about to say but I…”

“No,” she flat panned, taking Cullen off guard. “Whatever you are about to ask, no. Not until you can prove to me you deserve it  _ and  _ that he will be safe around you and with the Inquisition.”

“Of course! I would not expect anything less.”

“Oh?” she said, her expression taking on a skeptical expression.

“I mean… I… that is to say…”

She laughed then. It was the same laugh she used to use when she found his stuttering affection endearing. “I know what you meant, Cullen. I suppose we will be seeing much more of each other soon. Now if you’ll excuse me I would like to get some sleep before meeting with you and the other advisers tomorrow.”

“Yes. I’m sorry for taking your time.” He walked towards the door before turning one last time to say, “And Revan? Thank you.” He made it all the way back to his tent before realizing that she had called him by his first name for the first time since she left Ferelden.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're about to speed up here. Just give me a bit of prep to hit the post-Haven parts of the game.


	5. Chapter 5

The next morning was frustrating all around to say the least. Yvander strongly believed in contacting the mages in Redcliffe for help while Cullen thought the idea to risky. Leliana and Revan obviously backed Yvander but Cullen seemed resolute. “Commander, I don’t see your reason here. We have one party that is willing to help us while the other refuses to speak with us and goes so far to punch Revered Mothers for shits and giggles. We don’t even have a guarantee that the Templars could actually help in this endeavor!” Yvander said through gritted teeth.

He had spent the entire meeting keeping Revan from exploding at Cullen while attempting to keep his own temper in check. The Commander’s next comment made both of those things nearly impossible. “I was a tempar. I know what they are capable of.”

Revan slammed her hands down on the table, growling in frustration. “As am I Commander. Need I remind you that many others, especially survivors of Kirkwall, do as well?”

“This situation is entirely different!” the former Templar roared. 

The argument would have continued if Josephine had not stepped in to chide them both. “Are we to be divided in this as much as those fighting the war? We are here to stop the violence, not encourage it amongst our ranks!” The former lovers contained any further comments, both stepping away from the war table to cool off as the ambassador continued. “The Herald has decided to reach out to the rebel mages and has the support of multiple people in this room. If diplomacy is to win out, we should make an effort to meet with them at the very least. Should their terms prove unacceptable we can approach the Templars later.”

Yvander took a deep breath before adjourning the meeting, thankful that Josephine’s mind was ever sharp.

* * *

 

Revan stormed out of the Chantry, nearly running straight into a man in full armor. After begging his forgiveness she listened to his message and relayed it to both Yvander and Leliana. The young Tevinter man had been polite at the very least and his proposal for an entire mercenary squadron seemed reasonable enough granted they held up to their reputation. After that she sought time alone and wandered out of Haven into a neighboring field. She found a small dock on the edge of the frozen lake and sat to think. She was there for a few hours before she heard the crunch of armored boots on snow behind her.

She didn’t take the time to turn before speaking, “If that’s you Commander, now is not the best time.”

To her surprise it was Cassandra who spoke, “Then it is fortunate the Commander is not here, my friend.”

“Cassandra! I apologize, I thought that - “

“It’s no worry, Revan. The air around the two of you is usually tense. I think I am beginning to understand why.”

“What do you mean?” she asked, unsure of what the Seeker was implying.

“I know that part of your differences are caused by the mage rebellion. But, after reading some reports, I understand that the two of you have some history.”

Revan took a deep breath and told her everything.

* * *

 

Cullen was drilling the recruits when Yvander found him. The rogue was in a heightened state of mind after returning from the Storm Coast with new soldiers in tow. He was also very aware of The Iron Bull’s eyes drilling into the back of his skull. Knowing the Qunari was Ben Hassrath had given him much to think about. Beyond that he had a Grey Warden watching his every move and a Tevinter Magister looming over Redcliffe. 

He was loathe to ask the Commander for help on this issue but Cassandra was busy preparing for their assault on the castle and Revan was still fuming from his initial refusal to take her as a forward member. With few other trustworthy choices, his options for training against magical warfare were scarce.

“Commander!” he called out on the edge of the training grounds, “I need a favor.”

Cullen turned raising a quizzical eyebrow at the Herald. “Yes, Herald?”

“I need help defending against offensive magic.” 

“I… suppose that is prudent what with the coming mission. Though I don’t know exactly how my skill set would help specifically.”

“You’re a Templar, Cullen.

“Who prefers a shield over a dagger.”

“You led Templar rogues. I trust you have some insight,” Yvander dead panned.

Cullen sighed as he gave his lieutenants orders to continue training and walked over to Yvander. “I have some knowledge on tactical approaches to magical defense, but without being an initiate yourself you won’t have access to the majority of anti-magical techniques.”

“So what does that leave me?”

* * *

 

_ Stay close to the caster, he said. It will be alright, he said. You won’t get transported to some fucked up future where your best friend is dead, he said. _ The sarcastic remarks rolled through Yvander’s head as Cassandra, Blackwall, Dorian, and he fought their way to Alexius. The trip to this dead future had been disorienting and his anger had only grown when he found out that Alexius had Revan tortured to death. Something about her had reminded him of a slave he used to own, a slave that had escaped leaving his wife to die and his son to be tainted with the blight. None of that really mattered to Yvander though. All he could think of was Alexius’ head on a pike for the shit he’d yet to cause. 

They had freed Leliana on their way to the magister’s inner sanctum and Yvander had barely beaten her to slipping a dagger between the maleficar’s ribs. As he and Dorian crashed down into their proper time, Yvander rounded on the magister and tackled him to the ground. “If you think for one moment that you will ever save your son by doing this, you are the most twisted fuck I’ve ever had the displeasure of meeting,” he growled almost feraly. Before he knew it, Cassandra was pulling him back while Revan and Blackwall restrained the mage.

His head buzzed as the King and Queen of Ferelden barged in, demanding the removal of the mages. Though Blackwall cautioned against their bondage and Revan stared him down with the most malice she had ever shown him he could not extend a lenient hand after seeing that bleak future. The mages were marched back to the inquisition as their wards and, for the first time in years, Yvander felt distance between him and Revan.

* * *

 

Revan slammed her mug back down as she finished off her third beer for the night. She’d only started an hour ago but she had plans for the entire evening and possibly the next morning. She was half way through beer number four when Bull sat down across from her, causing his chair to groan under the new weight. 

“I heard the boss had you wound but this looks more like he pissed in your pool one time too many.” The Qunari studied her closely as he talked. She knew he was Ben Hassrath, but she was honestly too drunk and too angry to care about what she said next.

“That would be preferable to the shit he just pulled. You’d think he would have learned something from this shit rebellion over the last few years,” she spat. She knew she was saying too much in a public setting but she had little to no patience left after the silent ride back to Haven. “I’d give you the full rant but I’m saving my frustration for the tirade I’ve planned for tomorrow’s meeting.”

“I understand you’re frustrated. Can’t say I’d agree with you over the outcome but I do think some sort of action was necessary,” he added cautiously.

Revan snorted in an unladylike fashion, “You only say that because you’re not a mage. I’m no separatist but this is the same situation that lead to the war we’re dealing with now. Yvander understood that before we left.”

“Hey I get it,” he said, holding up his hands in some form of mock surrender. “I don’t know what he saw in that fucked up future but I think whatever it was, it was bad enough to warrant his reaction. If he’s as close to you as I think he is, he wouldn’t go off halfcocked like he did without good reason.”

“Whatever his reasoning, I don’t like this,” she said, taking another swig of her drink.

“You don’t have too, you just gotta find a way to work with it. Even if you’re gut’s screaming that you toss a fireball at his head.”   
  
“Or freeze him to his bedsheets,” she chuckled as she cracked a wry grin.

“Or that,” bull said as he let out his own laugh before turning back to his somber mood. “I’ve seen what happens to leaders who lose the confidence of their seconds. I get the feeling you wouldn’t like seeing that happen to Trevelyan.”

“You’re right, but that’s enough of that. Now we drink our asses off.” She raised her glass for a toast as Iron Bull broke into a large grin.

“Now you’re speaking my language, Red.”

“I can do you one better,” she said as she dredged up old lessons. “Say ataash!” (*with glory*)

Iron Bull's’ eyes widen with surprise at the elve’s use of his mother tongue. “Say ataash, Enchanter. Say ataash.”

* * *

 

Cullen woke up to the sound of cackling laughter out on the lake. He had barely been able to get to sleep a few hours before and was completely unimpressed with whichever recruit had gone out of their way to get stone drunk in the wee hours of the morning. Fighting through a cold sweat brought on by withdrawals, he pulled on the bare minimum of his armor and marched out to the dock. He was about to unload on whoever had interrupted his rest when he recognized the elf out on the ice.

“Revan?!” he shouted in a startled croak. “What the… why…”

The enchanter took that time to turn and race towards him across the icy lake. “Cuuuuuuuullllllen!” she shrieked as she slipped towards him. He raced to catch her before she fell flat on her face, only succeeding in slipping the second he had a hold on her.

He let out a startled “OOF!” as his back collided with the frozen surface, breaking Revan’s fall and pulling another excited squeal from their collision. 

“I  _ told _ Bull I could get you on your back!” she giggled, flustering the now cherry red Commander.

“You  _ what _ ?!” he shouted as his voice cracked and he attempted to stand them both up.

“He h-heard about our shp- shparring match and bet me I couldn’t actually beat you. So  _ I _ told  _ hiiim _ …”

“Sweet Andraste,” Cullen groaned. “You are far too drunk to be out here at this time of night. Why don’t we take you home?”

Her only response was an incoherent giggle that Cullen took for an agreement. He shuffled her off to her cabin, trying his best to keep her upright as she sagged against him. As he laid her down to bed and turned she said something that made him pause. “I always liked your eyes, you know that.”

“You’ve mentioned that before, yes,” he sighed.

She giggled again before acting as seriously as her drunken mind could manage. “I’m happy Thomas got yours instead of mine. It always reminded me of you.”

He didn’t know what to say to her after that. As he closed her door behind him and walked back to his tent he imagined what life could have been had they been average youths in southern Ferelden instead of a mage and Templar.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that this is a short one. It's still really important for the transition and for plot.

Revan cradled her head in her hands as she took a seat by the war table. The last thing she had remembered from the night before was Bull sauntering off with a serving wench. Everything that happened after that was anyone’s guess. Part of her was still frustrated with Yvander, but the majority of her ire was a result of the massive hangover she woke up with. Someone had noticed her drunkenness the night before and had arranged for a tonic to be sent to her that morning. She had tried to take it but the sickly sweet flavor had made her stomach roll and she was unable to down the rest after the first sip.

She winced as the door creaked open and nearly groaned when she heard the gentle clanging noise that was Cullen enter the room. Mustering up whatever was left of her manners, she greeted the Commander with a bleary “Good morning.” 

Cullen looked at her with sympathy before he spoke as softly as he could, “I sent you a drought this morning. I wish it had helped.”

Revan blinked up at the former Templar in surprise before recovering. “It was a pleasant thought Cullen. Unfortunately my stomach wholly disagreed with its use.” He shot her another sympathetic look as the others filed in.

* * *

 

They had done it. The breach was closed and the biggest threat to Thedas was gone. So why did Yvander still feel uneasy?  He watched the people of Haven dance and drink in celebration as he sat behind Leliana’s tent unable to shake the sinking feeling coiled in his gut. 

Revan stood just out of his line of sight next to her cabin when the warning bells began to ring. She was closer to the gates than most and was one of the first on the scene. She looked on in horror as she saw the templars storming down the mountain. None of her nightmares had ever been this dire. She took one last look then rushed back inside, grateful that Thomas was half a continent away. 

She helped Yvander and the others defend the trebuchets as Cullen’s soldiers did everything they could to bring the mountain down. She found that her fighting had become raw instinct. Any Templar within sight became a monster in her eyes, even before the behemoths made it to the village. After that everything was a blur of red. Fireballs, blood, and lyrium swam together in a sickening and deadly cocktail. 

She ran to the other exterior trebuchet with Yvander when he sent down the order. She didn’t think. She just acted. She kept up with her spell casting as they fought off another surge of red, barely realizing that they had succeeded in firing the Trebuchet and bringing down the mountainside. She let down her guard then, thinking the danger had temporarily slowed. She would remember the panic that came after.

* * *

 

Cullen ushered as many people into the Chantry as he could, barely pausing to register who was running towards him at that moment. Yvander and Iron Bull came barreling down trailed by the other members of the inner circle as they went. Several people had run in ahead telling him that the Herald was behind them saving those left in Haven. Cullen felt a brief moment of relief until he realized that Revan was not running alongside the group. He looked again at the head and noticed Iron Bull carrying an unconscious form as blood trickled down into the snow.

He ran forward to meet them, taking her into his arms just before they all made it to safety. He didn’t stop running until he made it to the healers in the back of the building. He laid her down gently as Yvander caught up, chest heaving and short of breath. “She took some debris to the back after an explosion,” he wheezed. “Got a barrier around us but not herself. Maker, she has to make it through this. Thomas needs her.”

Cullen staggered back to the main walkway still in shock. The only thing he could really focus on other than the injured woman was their current predicament. He gave his only remaining plan in a tense growl. When Roderick gave notice about the hidden path into the mountain, he jumped at the chance and rounded up the remaining survivors after nodding the Herald goodbye.  _ Maker help us all,  _ he thought,  _ and for the love of Andraste, help  _ **_her._ **

* * *

 

Revan moaned softly in her sleep, prompting cullen to gently wipe her brow as she continued to sweat through her fever. She been unconscious since the exodus from Haven, leaving Cullen even more subdued than he would have been after Yvander did not return. A healer dropped by his tent to care for her and to assure him that she would wake several times a day. The debris from the explosion had shattered her hip and small bits of it cut deeply into the base of her spine. The healers had done everything they could for her but doubts about her recovery still lingered amongst those who considered her a highly accomplished colleague. 

It was several hours later that Cullen startled awake to the sound of his name. “Cull,” Revan croaked from her cot, “Where…”

He moved over to her as quickly as he could manage, grabbing a water skin on his way. “We’re in the Frostbacks, Revan. You were badly injured at Haven and you still need rest,” he said calmly. 

Revan took a long drink from the canteen before looking back up to him. “How did we get out?” she asked.

“Chancellor Roderick knew a path through the mountains. He led us here before he passed.”

“But how did we escape the dragon?” she pressed. 

Cullen had dreaded telling her the news about Yvander. “Trevelyan, he… he stayed behind.”

Cullen barely had time to react as Revan tried to sit up and shrieked in pain. He caught her by the shoulders and tried to ease her back down while she gripped onto his cuirass. “Is he… is he gone?” she asked, begging him to surprise her.

He took a shaky breath as he replied, “We don’t know. The plan was for him to get to the old mining tunnels below Haven. Even if he did there’s no guarantee that he could make it here through the storm.” He did his best to calm her as she processed the information. She was nearly asleep before she asked the one question he was dreading above all else.

“Cullen?”

“Yes?”

“Why can’t I move my legs?”

* * *

 

Revan’s spirits had brightened considerably after Yvander was found. She was still confined to her cot on most occasions but the young boy that had warned them at Haven had taken to carrying her outside to sit by Yvander as he convalesced. She was on a trip back to Cullen’s tent when the singing started. Cole stopped to let her listen to the hymn. 

She had never been a devout Andrastian. Her mother had kept to the ways handed down by her clan and her father had little need for anyone’s gods before he’d died. The circle had enforced the Chantry’s teachings but the fact that she was only given the one option had chafed against her free spirit. But when she heard Cullen’s voice rise up behind her Revan could swear she felt  _ something _ holy filtering through. 

He was confident in his voice. Or perhaps he was just caught up in the moment. Either way he rang out against the night as if the mountainside itself was a cathedral. Even through all of the other voices his reached her more than Leliana’s or Mother Giselle’s ever could. He touched her down to her very soul with his devotion and clarity. 

She remembered what that felt like when she was young. Remembered chasing dreams down dimly lit corridors and into secluded rooms. She remembered how it felt to feel loved and needed, not just as a friend. She remembered the pain of leaving, of knowing in her head that it was for the best but in her heart that she was falling apart. She remembered the added blow of finding out she was pregnant, knowing that she would only be able to hold her child for a few moments before they were taken away forever. She remembered what being in love felt like. 

And it felt like the way she felt now.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time to settle into Skyhold!

Making it to Skyhold had been the saving grace of the Inquisition. Its state of disrepair had not mattered as much as it’s shelter from the wind. The wounded finally had enough room to lay out and recover and the fit had space to decompress. The events at Haven had shaken everybody to their core. Some were adjusting more quickly than others. 

Revan seethed with frustration as her legs refused to move… again. The weeks since the incident had been nothing but disappointing. After getting her hands on the healers that had handled her injury. The surgeon had done the best she could under the circumstances but several fragments of debris had been too deep for them to remove. Even if she could find a way to remove the shards it was unlikely that she would ever walk again. Even so, she refused to give up.

At the moment she was attempting to wiggle her toes. Or twitch them, she would settle for a muscle spasm at this point. Yvander had found her a room of her own by the garden and assigned two people to aid her at all times. Master Harrit had told her to expect something helpful at the end of the week but she was itching to do anything outside of her room.

Just as she was about scream in frustration someone knocked on the door. She took a deep breath before inviting them in. To her surprise Josephine stepped in with several books in tow. “I’m glad to see you awake Lady Suranna. I brought you some reading materials. Lord Trevelyan had a few recommendations, as did Cassandra.”

“I… thank you Lady Montilyet. I would offer you a seat but I’m afraid I don’t have one.”

“That’s alright Enchanter. I was actually hoping you would be up to a bit of time outside.”

The ambassador waved an aid inside as Revan agreed to her request. The two women sat outside chatting as if the world were completely unchanged. They talked about fashion and soirees and the latest novels. For the first time since her injury, Revan felt normal. Several days later Yvander left for his first mission to Crestwood. He had taken Varric, Vivienne, and Iron Bull with him to even out the party and assist Hawke in finding her contact. Cole had taken a shine to Revan after he finished his self-imposed duties with Haven’s wounded and assisted her with trips about Skyhold. She had asked him to bring her to the library on that particular day and was several dozen pages into a treatise on herbal remedies when she heard a polite cough behind her.

* * *

 

Harrit was standing almost shyly with his hands behind his back. The smith had a hopeful look on his face which broke into an excited grin. Revan was puzzled for a moment until she saw Blackwall behind him with some form of chair that had been folded for easy transport. “Master Harrit,” she said, “I’m glad to see you out and about, what can I help you with?”

After stumbling for a minute the smith cleared his throat yet again and got down to business.”Lady Revan, do you recall that I promised something to help with your mobility earlier in the month?”

“Yes,” she said as she arched her brow and closed her book.

“Well. Warden Blackwall and I came up with a solution for level floors. It’s not much what with all the stairs in the castle but, well, we thought…” he trailed as a blush rose to the normally stoic smith’s cheeks.

Blackwall chimed in to save his compatriot as Revan’s excitement began to show. “It’s a rolling chair, my Lady. Harrit should take most of the credit. I only helped with the woodwork. He designed it to be folded so it could be moved about the castle by an aid and made sure it was light enough for you to move it yourself if you wished.”

The warden set the chair up to give her a better view. It’s folding mechanism was simple with the seat itself seemed to halve when needed. The frame reminded her of a delicate pair of scissors with the way it’s crossbars slid together and the metal itself gleamed as it was made of highly refined silverwright. The cushions and padding were silk covered in a deep blue and rested atop delicate woodwork carved with Dalish halla and vines. It’s beauty alone made it a seat for nobility and Revan was in awe of the craftsmanship. 

“It’s beautiful,” she choked as happy tears pricked at her eyes.

* * *

 

Cullen let out a heavy sigh as the last messenger for the evening left his office. The first few weeks at Skyhold had been harrowing to say the least. Many of his men had been lost at Haven and many more had been injured to the point of disability. With so many resources going to the healers, left over herbs were in short supply and it was hard for Cullen to contact the families of those lost. Beyond the dead, those lucky enough to survive, albeit with major injuries, had few prospects outside of the Inquisition. Revan included. 

Cullen and Leliana were making an effort to locate their families and compensate them with several months worth of wages if they chose to leave. Those that decided to stay, however, were put to work as best as they could manage. Some, who were unable to traverse stairways were assigned to ground operations near the stables or in the Herald’s Rest. Others were stationed in the library or garden and tasked with clearing light rubble or basic maintenance. The one exception to each of these conditions was Revan, who had started working with the healers after she received her gift from Harrit and Blackwall. 

He had seen her hustling around the courtyard that morning in her chair as she treated several patients. At times she would get a wheel stuck but she always pulled herself together with a huff and corrected its placement on the soft earth. Even with her legs out of commision, her healing practices were efficient as ever. Her reliance on her hands for delicate work meant that her injuries were more of a minor hindrance in her trade and her assistants worked tirelessly to take up the slack. 

Part of him wished he had chosen an office closer to the ground floor so he could keep better watch over her. The more sensible thoughts he had, however, had opted for an office and lodging at the top of the battlements facing Skyhold Bridge. He was of a mind to avoid the same surprises of Haven and knew that his office provided an excellent vantage point without sacrificing cover.

Cullen snapped back to the present when he heard a delicate knock at his door. He let out a heavy sigh before inviting the messenger in. “Which of the advisors sent you?” he asked before looking up to find one of Revan’s aids. “Oh, I’m sorry…” he said, forgetting the dalish elf’s name.

“I’m Kalen sir, if you were to ask.”

“Yes… I… er… very sorry. How can I help you?”

“Lady Revan asked me to deliver this drought and note to you serah. She also wished for me to tell you that whatever ailment grieves you would be generally helped with food and rest and to remind you, pardon my manners, that you are a, quote, ‘Maker damned mortal and need to take care of yourself’ sir.”

The man relayed all of this with an even tone and the hint of a challenge in his eyes, as if daring Cullen to disobey Revan’s orders. Both he and his qunari counterpart had grown extremely loyal to Revan over the last few days. Knowing her tendency to nurture, Cullen could not blame the two. He quickly agreed to get some rest and ushered the man out his door before sitting down to read Revan’s note.

_ Cullen, _

_ I am sure that Kalen relayed my instructions clearly so I will not lecture you on the finer points of regulating diet and sleep. I will however be sending you droughts on a daily basis to help aid in the symptoms of lyrium withdrawal. I do not know why you decided to quit but I have noticed your bouts of shakiness and telltale migraines. You of all people should be aware of the life threatening symptoms of lyrium withdrawal and should have taken steps to counteract them before now. Whatever your reason, please be more mindful of your physical state from here on out. I would also like to invite you to dinner tonight in the garden as we have several personal matters to discuss. _

_ Revan _

Cullen sighed as he placed the letter on his desk. Whatever Revan wanted to discuss, he was not sure he could make it through the rest of his evening without a piercing headache.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It really irks me when war based fiction does not include injury and disability. I've got several medical problems myself and I'm really sick of the issue being glossed over. Also, stairs.... I hate the amount of stairs in this game.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the recent lag. I'm in my last semester of undergrad and I have very little time on my hands for writing.

Revan waited patiently for Cullen to arrive. She rubbed the letter between her fingers as if her anxiety about its contents could be worn away by the simple motion. Back and forth she went until she had nearly memorized the bumps in the parchment’s surface. She had spent hours over the last few days composing it, knowing that her decision could potentially change two lives beyond reversal. Now she held the letter in her hands as she waited under the roof of the gazebo for one of those two people to arrive. 

She had talked to Yvander at length about her decision and preparations would be made on his return regardless to this night’s outcome. The spymaster would be involved, possibly Lady Josephine as well. This endeavor that the Inquisition was about to embark on carried too precious cargo to be trusted as public knowledge. Engrossed in her thoughts, she almost missed the sound of his footsteps, iron clad as he was, while he approached. She took a deep breath before cocking back one wheel of her chair to face Commander Cullen.

He looked worn, as he would without the lyrium. His normally sharp eyes were weighed down by dark rings underneath and his posture, while holding true to his templar training and military position, gave a slight sense of tiredness. He had left his sword behind as well as most of his armor in favor of a light tunic and leather jacket. His boots were still the ones he wore about his day and the iron reinforced leather had been the only thing to alert her to his presence.

“Commander,” she said, nodding in greeting. The rehearsed formality did not go far to put her mind at ease, but it did make speaking with him so much easier.

“Enchanter,” he replied as he raised his brow in confusion. She waved him towards the small table that had been made available for the meal, inviting him to sit for the lengthy conversation they were about to have.

“I apologize for the bluntness of my letter,” she continued. “I have been preoccupied as of late and I’m afraid my demeanor has become somewhat tense over the last few days.”

“I imagine keeping up with the medical needs of our people has been quite taxing. I cannot blame you for being a bit tired.”

She slipped him a smile before saying, “If only you would extend yourself the same sympathy. I would rather you not become one of my patients this fortnight.”

“I believe that should not be an issue.” He paused as a servant placed a tray between them. He waited for them to leave before addressing her again. “Revan, you wanted to talk to me about something.”

She sighed as she wrapped her fingers around a tea cup. “Yes, I… we will be facing a bit of a change here within the next few months.”

He looked even more confused than before, “If you are speaking of the rebuilding of our forces-“

“No,” she interrupted, “This is something closer to our personal lives.” She lifted the letter from her lap and placed it on the table. “I have made the decision to bring Thomas here.”

Cullen choked and spluttered on his tea before he could stop himself. “Are you mad?” he nearly shouted. His mind was racing with all the reasons that the boy should be left in Ostwick. Mage Templar War aside, there was a Maker damned, darkspawn magister on the loose with an army of fanatics and monstrosities behind him. “If you didn’t think the roads were safe before you know they aren’t safe now! What in the name of Andraste prompted this?”

“I am well aware of the dangers, Commander,” she snapped. “But the risks of leaving him out of my sight are just as numerous and I’ll be damned if distance keeps me from protecting my child!” 

His mouth clamped shut as he took a deep breath. Revan had been raising the child,  _ his  _ child without his input for nearly a decade. It was not his place to step in if she was protecting the boy. He released his breath as she took another sip of tea, allowing the both of them to cool down before he spoke again, “What dangers are you afraid of then?” he asked, genuinely confused.

Revan let out an audible huff. “Whether or not the world knows of his relation to you, Thomas is connected very deeply to Yvander and his family. His proximity to the Inquisitor makes him a target for the Venatori and leaving him in Ostwick is begging for trouble. I’ve discussed my options with Yvander and the rest of the council and we believe this to be the best course of action.” She noticed him starting to speak and rushed to finish her point, “I asked the council to leave telling you to me. I thought the news would be better received this way.”

Cullen sucked in a breath through gritted teeth. The faith he had in his colleagues felt strained and some part of him felt the need to give the entire council a dressing down. Even if he had never met Thomas, even though he had only known he had a son for a few months, he felt deeply attached to the boy and had wanted some part in his life from the get go. He wanted to be the same person for his son that his father had been for him and he had no intention of letting this betrayal go lightly. “I see,” he ground out, “When was this conversation?”

“The day before Yvander left.”

Another breath passed through his clenched jaw as he forced himself to remain calm. Three whole weeks they had known and he had been left completely unaware. “I suppose this is the letter you’re sending to fetch him then?”

“Yes, Leliana will be sending her best agents to bring him.”

“I’ll prepare a few of my stealthier soldiers then,” he said. Revan began to protest but he cut her off holding up his hand. “No matter the urgency and secrecy of this mission, it is crucial to me that Thomas arrive here safely and I will not sit idly by while I could do something to ensure it.”

He could see Revan’s fingers clench the handle of her tea cup as her lips pursed to a thin line, “Very well, Cullen,” she seethed, “I will leave you to the rest of your meal. It seems we have nothing left to discuss.”

With that she waved Kelan and Jin-hel over to escort her back to her quarters. Kelan glared at the commander for the perceived slight to his mistress while Jin-hel remained wholly passive in expression as he lifted Revan, chair and all, down the steps of the gazebo. Cullen could feel a screaming migraine building behind his eyes as he left the garden for his chambers. In the morning he would discuss these events with the other advisors, but for now he seethed despite his small triumph and mounting excitement to meet his son.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know why but I really enjoy writing angry characters. But yeah, Revan and Cullen have some major communication issues due to some really heavy baggage. I swear I'll get to them unpacking it eventually. Comments and advice welcome as always!


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a short one, sorry. I just finished undergrad and moved halfway across the country so life has been hectic. Here's a quick pick me up.

Yvander trudged up to the gates of skyhold through the light mountain rain. Crestwood had held far too many surprises, most of them unpleasant, and he was aching to sleep in his own bed. He made it exactly twenty paces through the gates before those hopes were brutally dashed by Cullen marching towards him with his own stormcloud in tow.

“Inquisitor,” he said, his tone echoing the thunder rolling off of the distant mountains.

_ Shit,  _ Yvander cursed internally as he realized that the commander’s conversation with Revan must not have gone well. “Commander Cullen,” he replied keeping his expression stoic. “From your expression I assume you’ve had a less than pleasant evening.”

“Quite. May we speak in my office?”

Yvander let out a sigh as he nodded and followed Cullen up to the battlements, leaving his companions behind to do their own work. He steeled himself as the commander walked to the back of his desk. Both men stood in awkward silence, neither willing nor able to break the silence. The tension was finally broken when Cullen sighed and rubbed the back of his neck as his muscles relaxed. “I apologize for my current mood, Inquisitor. Revan just told me the news and I have yet to calm myself fully.”

“I… right. I apologize for withholding that particular information. Revan was adamant that she be the one to give it.”

“I understand, Inquisitor. I just… I wish she had not waited until the last minute to tell me.”

Yvander sighed heavily, knowing full well how Revan could dodge an unwanted situation. “For what it’s worth, he’s a charming boy. Not the most apt to study but bright and quick to learn when he wishes.”

Cullen chuckled, “I’m not sure which of us he gets that from. Probably both. His mother and I are equally stubborn.”

Yvander cracked a smile as the commander relaxed. “That you are! Though I dare say some of it may be my fault. He may have learned a few of my bad habits as my ward.”

Cullen’s shoulders regained their stiff posture as his expression sobered. “Thank you for that, Inquisitor. I am sure that I would have never learned of his existence without your help. The chantry keeps the existence of mage-born children under lock and key.”

It was Yvander’s turn to grimace then, “Yes they do. I am only glad I could repay Revan’s service to my family by protecting her own.”

* * *

 

Evelyn Trevelyan grimaced as she looked up at the Ostwick sky. Storms had crashed against the city walls for three days straight, waterlogging major roads and flooding lower plots of land. They had hit the coast of the Waking Sea with the force of a hurricane, a storm normally reserved for the coast of the Amaranthine Ocean.  _ And we are going to travel in this _ , she thought as she glanced at her young charge.

Thomas was seemingly unperturbed by the weather’s ferocity, nearly vibrating with excitement as servants in Trevelyan livery took his luggage to be loaded in the ship’s hull. The news from his mother had been bittersweet for Evelyn. On one hand, the political climate was safe enough for her to be reunited with her brother and closest friend. On the other her brother had been declared a heretic by the Chantry and that friend had suffered great injury to her person. Evelyn had always dreamed of travel outside of the Free Marches. She had devoured book after book in the circle’s library about foreign cultures and lands. This, however, was not the ideal trip she had dreamed about.

“Evie, look!” Thomas squealed, tugging at her robes excitedly. “That lady over there is the captain!”

Evelyn heard a velvety chuckle before she could reply. The woman Thomas had pointed out was a dark-skinned Rivani sailor wearing an oversized hat, mounds of golden jewelry and extremely revealing clothing consisting of a tunic and thigh high boots. She seemed comfortable in the rain as she strode across the deck, never failing to add a little twist to her hips on her way. 

Evelyn felt her face heat up as she looked the woman over. The rain had made her normally opaque tunic translucent in areas as it clung to her curves. Her jet black hair hung in tight, sopping curls as the kohl around her eyes stubbornly refused to smudge or run with the water droplets. “It’s less like captain and more like admiral, kid. But yes, I command this ship. Admiral Isabela of the Siren’s Call”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaand our favorite Rivani is back! Thomas had to cross the Waking Sea somehow. Why wouldn't Leliana and Varric call in a few favors?


End file.
